


'kay, okay, okay

by wordsofhoney



Category: Dota (Video Games) RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt N0tail, POV Johan "N0tail" Sundstein, TI8, pre-Cebtail if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsofhoney/pseuds/wordsofhoney
Summary: The whole community agreed that this is, probably, the most hyped match of the eighth TI. Johan understands them, really, but it doesn't make it easier.
Relationships: Sébastien "Ceb" Debs & Johan "N0tail" Sundstein
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	'kay, okay, okay

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of ['kay, okay, okay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376625) by [wordsofhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsofhoney/pseuds/wordsofhoney). 

Johan stands on the promenade and looks at the way city lights play on the dark water. The park is quiet, the only sound being a distant laughter from a random party that went out to get some fresh air on this warm summer evening. Johan takes another drag on his cigarette, and silently wishes them to go to hell.

He hears light footsteps behind him, and a low, annoyed grunt comes unbidden from somewhere deep in his throat. Johan can recognise those steps amidst a thousand others in this city, and he’s in no way ready to deal with whom they are about to bring to him. Not now, not when his stomach is twisting itself in a knot when he thinks about their last game, not when his heart doesn’t know whether it’s pounding in his chest in glee or because someone danced cancan on top of it.

Sebastien comes up and leans on the parapet next to him. Johan purposefully doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even spare a glance, even though his whole body feels like it’s wrapped with rubber bands that are pulling him to turn. Instead, he finishes the cigarette, throws the butt in the water, and reaches out for another one.

— Enough, maybe?

The crumpled pack flies after the butt, and Johan grabs at the parapet so hard his knuckles turn white, because it’s either this, or hitting someone in the face just because they approached him in the moment when the spring inside of him burst at last.

Fucking Frenchman with his hazel eyes, dark as a deep pool that you can fall into and never come back to the surface. _It’s all his fault_, Johan thinks, it all started the moment he appeared on the doorstep of yet another bootcamp, came into his life with an easy dancing gait.

— Fuck off, Séb, — Johan hears his voice shake, — Leave me alone.

Sébastien huffs out a breath, but remains standing where he was. Johan hates this shrewdness of his, wants to scream at him to get the fuck away, to go celebrate with the others, to leave him alone, as if he wasn’t stomped on enough today already. He tries to take a deep breath, but it comes more like a sob, and Johan would laugh, as if the only thing he needs right now is a fucking hysterics on the bay shore, but there’s not enough air and something is squeezing his throat.

_Say the fuck something_, thinks Johan, sending the thought at Sébastien, but Séb is stubbornly quiet, as if he knows that any sound from him will be the last drop for Johan to simply fall into pure anger. And like this, the only thing left for him is to keep drawing air noisily, like a beached fish, as if air can fill in a giant hole in his chest and wash back down the tears that are on the verge of falling.

Johan gives up first, screws his eyes shut, and feels the cool touch of wind on his wet cheeks. Another sob comes out of his chest, but there’s no hysterics in it now, just pain and bone-deep fatigue that have been brewing somewhere inside him for months, and now, finally, found a way out.

— I hate him, Séb, — the words are barely a whisper, and they should’ve got lost in the wind and the sounds of city, but Sébastien, _fuck_ him, honestly, hears everything, and Johan feels a warm hand on his shoulders. He could’ve turned away now, laughed it off, but he is _so_ tired that the only thing to do is to give up and allow himself to be hugged, bury his nose in the shoulder and sniffle quietly, while tears fall down on their own.

— No, you don’t, — Séb’s voice is low and quiet right over his ear, and Johan feels it as a shiver that washes all over his body, — That’s the problem.

Sébastien kisses him lightly on the temple and tugs him just a little bit closer; and maybe, Johan thinks, there’s nothing wrong with letting yourself fall.

**Author's Note:**

> _I cannot stop this sickness taking over  
It takes control and drags me into nowhere  
I need your help, I can't fight this forever_   
  
[STARSET — My Demons](https://youtu.be/LSvOTw8UH6s)


End file.
